


Details (of our time together)

by LydeNicoKITE



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Healthy Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydeNicoKITE/pseuds/LydeNicoKITE
Summary: Eames is sad, Arthur notices and tries to fix it.******Arthur loves details, and there’s nothing he loves more than mapping Eames’, discovering his ticks and tells. If they dream together, now Arthur recognises Eames despite the forgeries. It’s like knowing your favourite painter so well you can recognise a fake, or an obscure painting made in their youth from a stroke of colour.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	Details (of our time together)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my best friend/beta/scary partner in crime, BlackShuck, because she makes fan fiction something to be shared. You are a gift, really. 
> 
> This is the first fic I ever had the courage to share with the fandom (probably bc I wrote this at 2 am so who cares), even though I've read Arthur/Eames fic for years. You all are incredible, here and on tumblr, so thank you. 
> 
> (I posted this on tumblr a few days ago, if anyone has seen this before, which I doubt.)

###### Details (of our time together)

There’s something wrong with Eames. It’s not anything other people would notice, apart from Arthur: the dinner has been delightful in conversations, wine and food. Dom, Yusuf and Ariadne laugh at Eames’ jokes like during any other of their reunions.  
Arthur, who is usually the one who gets anxious when they have guests at home, is constantly checking everything’s in order (the food, the wine, Dom’s level of sadness and alcohol in his veins) but he doesn’t miss... whatever is happening with Eames. He couldn’t, not when they have been together for a year and a half -after three years of secret meetings, stolen kisses and not so subtle flirting- and every day he looks at Eames and wonders how could he be so lucky. Arthur loves details, and there’s nothing he loves more than mapping Eames’, discovering his ticks and tells. If they dream together, now Arthur recognises Eames despite the forgeries. It’s like knowing your favourite painter so well you can recognise a fake, or an obscure painting made in their youth from a stroke of colour. 

It’s not even something related only to this dinner: Arthur has a lists of things he has noticed especially during their reunions. Eames doesn’t look sad, but he _is_ ,and there have been little clues during the evening, just like at Ariadne’s brunch three months before. Eames doesn’t start new conversations, he only provides funny commentary, a few innuendos here and there to make Ariadne blush and Yusuf snort. Arthur knows that, when he’s not looking at Eames, his smile becomes strained around the edges. He doesn’t tell exaggerated anecdotes from his past, the ones Arthur says he never believes. Arthur fell in love with the Eames that tells those stories, that breaths lies only to tell a secret about himself better, and only to people he truly trusts. Now that those tales are missing, Arthur wonders what happened to that Eames. 

Dom says something about the Riga job, from the time when Arthur was helping him while falling in love with Eames, city after city, dream after dream. In Riga, Eames and Arthur worked on a way to extract the location of a scientist (hidden in Bruxelles after a theft of a few millions worth of equipment and research) in less than a day, bouncing off ideas so well that Arthur’s heart beat with adrenaline and anticipation. (In Riga, Arthur went to Eames’ room without even checking if Dom was asleep, too high from _feelings_ and lust.)

Dom says:-In Riga, Eames almost fucked up the forgery because he confused the mark’s sister for the daughter. The sister was 17, so it was an honest mistake.

Ariadne looks at Eames expectantly, certain Eames is gonna deny it all, or tell an abridged, altered version about the mark’s sister secret backstory. Eames just laughs as if he remembers the mistake and raises the glass to his lips.

Arthur feels the alarms blaring in his head, telling him to _do_ something, because this time he’s not paranoid. Arthur knows, and Eames knows, even Dom knows that it was Dom the one who almost fucked up the job in Riga. Mal appeared in the dream and Dom didn’t invite the mark to dance with him like planned. Eames had to change plans quickly, and decided to risk it all forging the sister, who Arthur suspected was the most important person in the mark’s past. Eames had been right and saved the extraction.

In the silence that follows Dom’s words, Arthur feels Dom’s eyes on him, because Cobb isn’t stupid, and even in his worst moments he could understand people’s secrets better than most. 

-Ari, could you help me with the plates? I have a terrible headache and I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.-Arthur says, and Ariadne helps him promptly, while Yusuf is already going to take his coat. Dom pats Eames’ shoulder like the awkward guy he manages to be despite his charm in front of strangers, and Eames tells him goodnight, say hello to Pippa and James for me.

Arthur leaves Ariadne in the kitchen, and finds Eames looking at him worried, _I didn’t know you had an headache, darling, too much bullshit for an evening?_  
Eames brings a hand to Arthur’s face, caresses the cheek with a thumb, careful as if he’s handling art. It’s such an Eames thing, the way he worries when Arthur’s sick, totally different from their usual banter, that Arthur breaths in relief, smiling at Eames for a brief moment.

-I’m just tired, don’t worry. I’ll handle the guests, you can go upstairs if you want.

Eames loves painting in the evening, not forgeries but original ideas, while Arthur finishes the research he has to do for the day. It’s been a few months since Arthur saw Eames painting something that wasn’t a fake commissioned by colleagues in the business. It’s like seeing a crack in the wall: once you’ve noticed it, every other imperfection around it is more evident. Arthur wants to kiss Eames, and he does, feels Eames adjust to the kiss immediately. He feels lighter than a moment before, because he knows Eames loves him. Whatever this is, he is quite certain (he hopes, fervently) is not about them as a couple. 

Dom and Ariadne thank them for the lovely evening, Yusuf promises to host the next dinner. It’s a lovely idea, because Yusuf is the best cook in the group and has promised Arthur to make whatever they ask him. The three of them go outside in the cold, the wind blowing Ariadne’s hair out of place as Yusuf offers to give her a lift home. Arthur closes the door, doesn’t bother to wash the dishes.

He goes to Eames’ study, the room the painter chose because it was the brightest in the house during the day, and because he didn’t mind the low ceiling of the attic. Pinned to the wooden beams there are photos, postcards, notes Arthur wrote when they were apart that Eames keeps around when he paints, because he says Arthur is a romantic even if he only writes _See you soon, don’t burn down the house_. It has become Arthur’s favourite room (not counting the bedroom, as Eames would say), even if there is paint and canvases and lumps of unfinished sculptures scattered around the room in a complete mess of things. Eames manages to remember where everything is, making Arthur believe he really has a secret way of organising his stuff, while Arthur gets lost in it trying to find a pen. 

The lights of the studio are on, but Eames is not working. He’s standing still in front of his last original work, a dazzling landscape of green hills and purple skies Arthur knows comes from a rare natural dream. Arthur doesn’t find the words -it happens often when it comes to Eames, and he usually doesn’t mind because the forger _understands_ \- so he goes to hug Eames from behind, careful not to touch an old bullet wound on Eames’ right shoulder that still hurts after months of healing. Eames got shot seven months before in Saint Petersburg, and Arthur remembers it is the last job Eames has done on the field. This observation strikes him as odd, leaves his head reeling a bit. 

-Eames?-he says, he asks. He feels the forger exhale deeply between his arms, hears a light chuckle that sounds tired coming from Eames’ lips. 

-I knew you’d notice. You’re too clever not to notice, you love details.

Arthur closes his eyes, goes to look at Eames in the eyes because he need the visual clues they give.

-What is it? Is it.. us? I feel like I need to ask because...

-It’s not us, pet.-Eames interrupts him-No, it’s not, how could you think that. It took me so much to get you to even like me, you know I’m not planning an escape to Vegas.. yet.

-You hate Vegas because you always lose-Arthur replies on instinct. His resolve to understand why Eames is sad strengthens, so he hides for later the soft feeling that comes knowing Eames is not leaving. 

-Can you tell me why you’re sad? You would never miss a chance to teach Cobb a lesson, we all know what happened in Riga.-Eames huffs and says nothing-Eames, you never tell your crazy stories anymore. 

-I thought you hated them-Eames smiles.

-I don’t and you know it. Eames, it’s been more than three months, what’s...

The realisation comes like the stacking of thin cards one after another until there’s a solid deck in his hand. He feels so stupid he wants to punch someone, maybe himself.

-You stayed too much at home. You don’t tell jokes because you don’t have new stories, you don’t correct Cobb because you stopped working in dreams and feel excluded. _Eames._

It’s almost angry, the way Arthur says his name, because Eames could have said something. Arthur never stopped working after their first two celebratory weeks in the house, it’s what keeps him the right kind of insane criminal. 

A few second pass in silence, then something breaks in Eames’ expression, the last attempt to avoid the conversation.

-I never wanted you to think that you.. that _this_ wasn’t enough.-he gestures around himself, the attic, the house they chose together. It was never easy, building something together, being criminals and having opposites personalities. Eames was the one who was the most excited to have their own safe house, a place with no family history outside their own. 

-It doesn’t mean you have to stop living, Eames. I always work, it’s who we are. We love who we are.-Arthur says with complete and rare certainty. Maybe Eames has grown to hate dreamsharing and painting and art. It feels like an alien thought.

-It’s easier for you, you can take a lot of jobs from here, you can do research easily from your study. I will always have to leave and go to where the mark is, to study his habits or how are the security systems of a museum. It’s not the same, and it’s not doable.

It’s clear as day that Eames has thought about this a lot, reasoned about what he could and couldn’t do to maintain their newfound balance. The idea that these last few months together have been unhappy for Eames, while Arthur had never felt so happy, breaks his heart in smaller pieces. 

-Arthur, don’t, it’s not your fault. I love being with you and I don’t want to be always away, or get shot again and leave you. I can’t.

-I can’t leave you either-Arthur says, and he kisses Eames with force, trying to make him understand how much he means it. They kiss, and Eames is the first to break contact. Arthur notices with a pang of relief that a spark is back in Eames’ eyes, something that was lost in the days he spent wondering what to do now that the job he loved wasn’t an option anymore.

-Tell me your plan, love. I know you have one to fix this.

-No, you have to tell me what you want to do. What do you miss? I can always join you, if the job is too long, even if I’m not on in the team. I can always bring my work with me. We can leave tomorrow.

The solution is there, difficult as usual, but Arthur clings on it and pulls, because he wants to fix this. He only needs Eames to meet him halfway.

-You know I love you, right?-Eames says. He smiles and turns to look at a piece of paper cut from a newspaper stuck to the wall, beside a photo of Arthur on the beach, brows furrowed and nose peeled under the sun, staring at the camera with mock annoyance. Eames had dragged him to a beach after a job gone well in Portugal, carrying a camera with him with excitement in his eyes because he could take as many photos as he wanted. 

Arthur sees in Eames the same excitement of that day as he rips the note from the wall. 

-I want to steal a painting. It is quite famous, very well guarded and so perfect you would hate it hanging in the living room.

Arthur smiles.

-I’ll go pack our stuff, then.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want, I'm on tumblr as @dickensir, come say hello! I don't bite!


End file.
